There’s a certain numbness that comes with losing yourself. Not being sure what’s worse, that you were abandoned by choice, or that somewhere along the way you lost yourself, unwillingly.
For every minute it takes someone to pack up their belongings, turn their back and walk away from you, it takes days, months even for you to search through the remains of what was left behind for any piece of yourself and churn over years worth of shattered memories only to be left with questions unanswered.
I think the worst part is realising that they took much more than their possessions with them, and that by walking away, they got to write the last chapter, they got to decide the ending- of which you would re-read time and time again until the words blurred into a continuous daze of things your brain could never interpret to make any sense.
After a while the numbness is comforting, because feeling numb is better than feeling nothing at all, and there has to be something near the bottom of the scale to measure happiness right?
But being numb is worse than pain and hurt, it’s complete and utter darkness, it’s when you’ve spiralled down for so long that you’ve lost all sense of direction and you’re not sure which way is up. It’s when you’ve got nothing left to feel, to think, but continue to see a reel of broken memories and hear harsh resounding words replaying on the projector in your mind.
I think that’s when you lose yourself, and it should be terrifying, but the feeling is suppressed by the fog in your head.
Closing your eyes at night is your only escape from reality, the only chance to feel something better because dreaming lets you enter a world that you can instantly vanish from and never deal with the hurt if you’re left alone, because it’s not real, that person was only a figment of your imagination and forgetting dreams comes naturally.
Waking up is the hardest part, because opening your eyes it becomes real again and you’re forced to remember the truth, you start to question whether that person you loved ever really existed, where was the evidence when they are now a complete stranger to you? You find yourself wondering how someone could take away such valuable parts of you that you didn’t even know existed, and how on earth would you ever get them back if you didn’t know you owned them in the first place?
Our perception of “love” is so skewered, it’s given and taken too freely. Without second chances, or with too many. Taken for granted, undermined and overlooked. Expectations are higher, standards are lower.
Who ever said it’s all uphill from here was clearly delusional because things can always go from bad to worse, from worse to tragic, rock bottom is never really rock bottom, life will always be up and down.
I think this is how we’re supposed measure our current happiness/sadness, on our past experiences, and constantly strive for better, because if things keep getting worse, surely giving up will just throw us further down right? And if things can get worse then surely they can go from bad to okay to good to great.. Or completely jump the scale from tragic to magnificent in a matter of seconds. Keep climbing no matter how far you fall.
Even being numb is still a reminder that you are alive, and better things are yet to come. Don’t just keep falling, fight it, life is a constant war against yourself.
Make your own happiness to cloak the sadness.
If seconds is all it takes to break you, then your day could be a few ticks of the hand away. You’ll find the pieces of yourself on the journey, whether through people or words or experiences.
Maybe after all we don’t actually lose ourselves, we just forget.